To be wanted
by EllaRosee
Summary: Abducted as a baby and being raised by two abusive parents, Michael Newman knows nothing of his past. When he and his parents move to Tulsa, Oklahoma Michael meets 6 boys who offer him friendship and give him acceptance. Little did he or they know, they had all met many years ago. Darry and Soda have waited over a decade for their beloved brother to come home.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. I looked back over this story yesterday and realized I needed to edit it alot. Chapter one was originally almost 5, 000 words long so I split it up into 3 parts and went back and edited everything. I will be posting chapters 2, 3 and 4 soon!**

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I lean my head against the coolness of the car window and close my eyes. Today my family and I had packed our bags and were moving to Tulsa, Oklahoma. At this moment I was feeling many emotions but the most prominent was anticipation; I had lived in the same house my whole life so I was looking forward to a change.

I was making this move with my father and mother.

I admit, my parents aren't the nicest people on earth but they were family so I loved them regardless of their flaws. My mother is a stern woman, who has never once shown me an ounce of affection. Never had she hugged me or told me she loved me. I am not going to lie and say it doesn't hurt me because it does. I desperately craved her love above anything else.

My father, balding head and great, big beer gut was certainly not attractive, but boy did he pack a punch. I had been on the receiving end of punches many times, too many too count. What hurt more than his hits though was his ability to leave you feeling terrible with a sentence, a few words or even just one. Even after so many years of having his insults thrown at me, they still hurt every time he dishes them out.

Every time I scour my brain to think of a plausible reason why I am subject to such horrible treatment by my parents I come up blank. When I was a kid, maybe 4 or 5 I had hoped that my parents would wake up one day and decide they did love me and we'd be a happy family. As time goes on, this dream seems to become less and less realistic. I do not dwell on my parents any longer though , knowing It will get me nowhere.

I gaze out of the car window as we pass by dozens of neighbourhoods. From our old house in Fort Smith it takes around 50 minutes to an hour to get to Tulsa. It was a long, and would be tedious drive but my huge imagination proved an asset in this occasion. I could get lost in my head for hours thinking about everything and nothing.

The car pulls to a halt outside a wooden one- storey house. The house is painted white, although the paint is cracked and peeling in places, indicating it needed to be repainted in the near future. Other than the need of a good paint job, the rest of the exterior of the house was reasonably bland. I was curious to see the inside of the house, hopefully more interesting than the outside, and explore what would be considered 'home' for the next however many years.

I hop out of the car and spot the removalists pulling up behind our old, grey Citroen 2cV. My father comes over to where I am standing, observing the house and orders me to help the removalists unload the boxes and furniture. I swiftly oblige, approaching the two removalists, who look to be in their early twenties. The look to me as they sense my presence. I work up the courage to talk to them; I always got nervous around strangers.

"Can I help?" I ask, desperately praying they would let me. If my father wanted me to do something then I had too, regardless of how much it benefits him or not.

"You sure kid? You look a little small to be lifting these boxes" The tall one with dark hair says, observing my small stature and thin build.

I stay silent, unsure of what to say. I wrap my arms around my waist and look down, hoping either one of the removalists would break the silence that had settled over us.

"Stick to the light boxes ok?" the shorter, cheerful-looking blonde one says, figuring I wasn't up for talking.

I nod and look toward the house, my father is stood outside with my mother while she makes plans for the flower bed. He is watching me like a hawk. I gulp and scurry to grab a box. The two young men look at me strangely at my sudden urgency to get started but I ignore them. I assume they get over it since the next moment they are beside me grabbing boxes from the van.

With a box full of bed sheets in my hands, I enter the house. Inside of the house, it has the same feel as the outside. The walls are covered in yellow wallpaper that is peeling like the white paint I saw before, although the damage was not as obvious. Brown carpet marred every section of flooring, apart from the bathroom and kitchen which had black and white tiles. I walk down the narrow hallway and look into every room as I pass; 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom with a toilet, dining room, kitchen and living room are what made up the house. I place the box of bedding inside the biggest bedroom, knowing this would be my parent's bedroom.

The three of us ( the removalists and I) spend 2 hours or so unloading the truck before my father announces that he and my mother would be leaving for a few hours, to explore and go shopping for food. I sigh in relief. Having my mother ordering me where to put boxes and placing stuff exactly where she wanted for the last few hours was staring to grate on my nerves.

My parents pay the two men their money and depart. I wasn't surprised that I wouldn't be getting anything for my hard work. Not a thank you or nothing.

We unload the last few items and then it comes time for the men to depart. I wonder if I should say goodbye or something as a way of being polite. I do not have time to decide for they approach me first.

"Your parents are some nasty pieces of work" the dark haired guy declares. It seemed my parents brought up the same thoughts from every person they met. My mother had no friends due to her nosy nature and her tendencies to gossip about every person in town. My father although, had more friends due to his kind and friendly attitude with anyone but me. It seemed these removalists were more observant than most and realised his change in moods when around certain people.

"I know" I say, glad someone agreed with me.

"What's your name, kid?" Blondie asks.

"Michael, and yours?" I ask, curious as to the names of these two friendly people.

"I'm Tony, and this is John" Blondie says cheerfully, pointing toward the slightly more reserved guy to his right. Tony holds his hand out for me to shake and I tentatively slip my hand into his. I was glad that I had worn a jumper today; the long sleeves covered the hand mark shaped bruises that marred my arms. I didn't want them to bring up unnecessary questions and cause the removal of myself from my family. My father had told me many stories of the boys' home and I certainly didn't want to be sent there.

I ungrasp his hand at the same moment John looks at his watch. His eyebrows rise when he sees the time.

"Tony we've got to head back now, there is another move to do" he says earning a sigh from Tony.

"Ok, wait just a second" Tony replies, opening the door to the van and rummaging around inside the glove compartment for a few seconds. He pulls out a pen and a business card; he scribbles something on the back and hands it to me.

"You need a break from your parents or anything then phone that number, alright?"

I turn the card over to see the word 'Tony' and a phone number written in black pen. I smile gratefully and thank him. He smiles back

"See ya later Michael" he says, ruffling my dark brown/ reddish hair.

"Bye Kid" John says, also ruffling my hair. I grin up at them.

"Good Bye" I tell them, slightly upset that they had to leave, but also feeling more joy than I had ever felt; my heart had been lifted by their kindness.

I give them a small wave as they drive off down the road and around the corner and glance at my old, tatty, blue watch. 2 o'clock. I had a few hours to myself before my parents came home and I planned to make good use of it.

**Thanks for reading :) I hope it's better than before I changed it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoop, chapter 2! My friend read the last chapter and thought the removalists were Soda and Steve. They are not! hahaha.**

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It is quiet out since it was only 2pm; people are still at work and school hadn't let out yet. School, I thought. It was a Friday today and I would be starting at my new school on Monday. I was nervous about going to school here in Tulsa. I didn't have many friends at my old school. To be honest; I didn't have any at all. People thought I was strange because I didn't talk much. I couldn't help that I just wasn't as confident as the other kids. I hope here it was different; being by yourself all the time wasn't all that fun

I notice as I walk further and further away from our street that the houses start to look nicer and in better condition than those in our area. I spot a woman in her 50s perhaps, pruning her hedges. She looks towards me and I smile. Instead of smiling back like I thought she would, she fixes me with a harsh glare. I frown in confusion. What had I done to make her to glare at me like that? I brush it off as just her being in a bad mood. I concentrate on reaching my destination, wherever it was.

I walk for a while longer and spot a restaurant up ahead. At that moment, I wished I had some money on me so I could by some lunch. I was starving. All that I had had today was a piece of stale bread and my throat screamed for water or any drink at all.

Next to the restaurant I spot 4 boys around 16 or 17 wearing madras shirts and cream jeans. They lean lazily against the restaurant wall; they had obviously skipped last period today. One of the guys, a curly red head, notices me walking their general direction. He whispers something to his buddies and they start walking towards me. I debate in my head whether I should walk away or not. I decided not to for they probably didn't mean any trouble and it was considered cowardly to just walk away if they did.

"What are you doing on this side of town, greaser?" the red head says harshly, eyeing me up and down. I was unaware of what a 'greaser' was or what 'this side of town' meant. I stand there silent, unsure of how to answer. I fold my arms and gaze at the pavement beneath my feet wishing I had just walked away instead.

"Are you a stupid mute or something?" red head says, obviously angered at my lack of reply.

"Sorry, I'll leave" I mumble, turning around to head back down the street I just came from. I am blocked by two of the boys. I start to panic and my breathing becomes shallow and fast.

"No can do buddy, we're gonna make sure you never want to come back here, right Randy?" He turns to a brown haired guy on his right who smirks when I meet his eye.

"Sure thing, Bob" he says

Before I can register anything else, Bob has my jumper in a tight grip and his first poised back. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable blow but it never comes. I open my eyes to see that the four boys are watching as a car comes spluttering our way.

The car pulls up beside the five of us and the driver rolls down the passenger window.

Bob lets go of my shirt and faces the car.

"Aw, has big greaser come to save itty bitty Greaser?" He taunts. The driver whom I cannot see opens the passenger door, ignoring the comment.

"C'mon kid, I'll take you to your house" the stranger offers and without thinking about it I hop in his car, dodging the reaching hands of the older boys. I slam the door shut and the guy starts the car up and slams on the accelerator. I look towards him and observe the boy; he looks to be around the age of those other boys, maybe older and has auburn coloured hair and large sideburn. His shirt has a cheerful, smiling mouse on it. The boy turns to look at me sporting a grin on his own face.

"Thank you for helping me" I tell him, trying to be polite.

"No problem, what are you doing in their part of town anyway?" he asks, returning his eyes to the road. I shrug, hoping he would explain to me what he meant by that.

"You must be new in town. Those guys you just ran into are called Soc. Steer clear of them I tell ya, they ain't no good" he warns me, suddenly serious.

I reflect on this mysterious guy. It was quite idiotic of me to jump in his car since he was a complete stranger to me and we were always told in school to never get in cars with strangers. Although, considering what would have happened if I hadn't, I decide this was a much better option. Besides, he seemed like a nice enough guy.

"You don't say much do you?" he says, interrupting my thoughts. I shrug again. He lets out a loud bark of a laugh which startles me and causes me to grasp the side on the car.

"Names Keith but you can call me Two Bit" he introduces, oblivious to my frightened state. He extends out his hand while keeping the other securely on the wheel. I shake his hand quickly, wanting him to refocus his attention on the road. He was an awful driver and I really didn't want to be in a crash.

"Two-bit?" I query. What a strange name.

"My real name is Keith but people call me Two- bit 'cause I need to get my two-bits worth in all the time, get it?" He explains, cackling a tad. I understand the use of the nickname now. It still seems like a bit of a barbaric nickname though, considering he was basically calling himself a loud mouth but he didn't seem like too much of a 'normal' guy either.

"So what's your name squirt?" he asks.

"Michael"

I do not bother to give him my last name since he didn't say his. Suddenly, Two bit's face lights up.

"Mickey, I'll call you Mickey!" He says excitedly. I just look at him strangely.

"You like Mickey right?" he asks, looking at me expectantly.

"Who's that?" I ask. I had no idea who 'Mickey' was. Were they famous or something?

Two Bit's mouth opens wide in shock and he looks down at his shirt, pointing at the mouse printed on the front. Mickey is a mouse?

"Mickey is the most amazing mouse to grace television, how can you not know about him?" he says in disbelief.

"I don't watch TV I guess, sorry" I say, embarrassed. Off course we had a TV but I certainly wasn't allowed to watch it.

"Don't worry kid, we'll educate you in the wonderful world of TV" he turns and winks at me. I wonder who he meant by 'we'.

I look out the window and notice my house coming up. I open my mouth to tell Two Bit so but as if he reads my mind, he slows the car down until we come to a halt right in front of my house.

"You have reached your destination" he announces in a robot-like voice. I look at the greasy haired, side burned guy in shock.

"What… how did you know where I live?" I ask, stunned. I didn't remember telling him.

"That house had been on the market for a while; figured that's where you moved into, call me psychic!" Two-Bit laughs and winks at me again. I smile at him and open the passenger door. Looking up I notice my parent's car in the driveway. Boy was I in trouble. I hadn't even realized I'd been out for over 2 hours! I step out of the car. As my foot hits the pavement, I feel a hand land on my shoulder. I turn my head to look at Two Bit.

" Hey kid, you need anything or just get bored come to the Curtises, that's where our gang hangs out and your welcome to swing by " Two-Bit tells me, pointing to a house a few doors down. I nod; knowing I probably wouldn't go there.

"See you later Mickey!" He shouts and waves dramatically, blowing kisses out the window as he drives off. I wave at the departing car and brace myself to go inside, the lights are on and through the curtains I see my dad on the sofa, beer in hand. What was worse than angry father, was a drunken father.

**Thanks for reading! Hope you liked this chapter. Pony aka Michael meets the rest of the gang soon :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Enjoy this chappie...**

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Taking a deep breath, I place my hand on the doorknob and turn, praying my father hadn't drank too much and would just let me flee to my bedroom. My prayers are not answered for when I step through the door his head snaps to me and a look of pure rage crosses his face.

"Where in the hell have you been?" he shouts, jumping off of the couch and approaching me. I hesitantly take a few steps backwards until my back hits the door.

"I-I-I went walking and s-some boys attacked me, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be late" I stutter through my excuse. I knew that he didn't give a damn if I was attacked, and that no excuse would ever be good enough to him.

"I don't give a shit if those boys attacked you, hell I wouldn't give a shit if they killed you, would have finally gotten rid of you" he screams in my face, spittle coming out in bucket loads. His breath reeks of beer.

"Your poor mother, coming home and not seeing her house clean and everything unpacked. She was _very_ upset" he says, trying to somehow make me feel guilty.

"You didn't tell me to do any of that" I tell him in a voice nothing above a whisper. I instantly regret the words that come out of my mouth.

"Don't you backchat me!" my father shrieks, grabbing an empty beer bottle off the floor and hurling it at my head, I duck and the bottle luckily misses me and hits the wall behind me, shattering. I look to him in shock, my heart beating so fast I am surprised it cannot be heard hammering against my chest.

Further enraged that he missed me, he grabs my throat and drags me up the wall so we are eye level. He isn't squeezing hard enough to make me choke, but it sure was hurting a lot. I stay still; knowing if I try and get away he'll punish me worse.

"DON'T. EVER. BACKCHAT. ME."

With every word he slams my head back against the wall with such force that the wall cracks. He stops and squeezes his hand on my throat preventing me from breathing; I panic and grab his wrist, struggling to get him off. He watches me with a sick grin on his face as I struggle. He keeps squeezing for about 10 seconds then lets ago suddenly, dropping me to the ground. I sit there and try to catch my breath. I rub my tender neck, knowing there would be a bruise there in the morning.

He is not done though. He kicks me in the side once. Twice. Three times. I gasp in pain with every kick to the ribs.

"Get out of my house and don't come back until tomorrow!" He screams, giving me one last kick to my side, disappearing around the corner and down the hallway where I know my mother is. When my father is beating me or screaming at me she usually stays in her room or sometimes just watches and does nothing. It hurts more than the beatings, that she just does nothing when she knows it is wrong.

I scramble up and quickly get out of the house before he comes back.

I walk to the field near our house, wincing at the pain it causes in my side to move. When I reach the field, I spot an abandoned car seat. Deciding that was probably the best place to sleep if not the only I walk over and sit on it, kicking the rubbish surrounding it out of the way.

I bury my throbbing head in my hands and push down the bile that rises to my throat. Why were my parents so cruel to me? What had I done to deserve so much hate from them? Many times I had thought of running away but I didn't have the guts. Where would I go? I end up homeless on the streets, with no food, money or shelter. At least at home I had a roof over my head and the bare minimum of food.

During my mulling I hear light footsteps steadily growing louder, indicating someone was walking my way. I look up and my eyes meet those of a boy with tan skin and dark brown almost black hair. I could not see him very clearly in the dark. He comes to a halt beside me. Before either of us can say anything, my stomach lurches and I have to lean over the seat to puke up the little food and liquids in my tummy. I can feel the seat sink as the newcomer sit next to me and lays a gentle hand on my back. Normally any contact meant pain for me but the hand does not strike me, just comforts me.

"Are you ok?" The boy asks me once I have chucked up all I could. He seemed generally concerned but I did not trust him.

"I'm fine" I say although I wasn't. My side was in agony, my head was throbbing and my neck was so tender. I did not tell the boy this though, for it did not really matter. I had had much worse done to me.

We fall into a peaceful silence, both of us leant back on the seat and gazing up at the stars.

"What's your name?" the boy asks curiously, breaking the silence

"Michael, what is yours?" I introduce myself for the third time that day.

"Johnny" he says, giving me a small smile. I smile half-heartedly back and we fall into silence once more.

My head is still throbbing painfully; I wince when it gives a particularly sharp prod.

"Are you ok?" He asks, turning to me.

"Yeah, just a headache is all"

"You are hurt, did some Soc jump you?" Johnny presses on. I really didn't feel like talking right now, every time I did it just increased the pain in my battered head. I shake my head no, the Socs had almost beat me up yes, but they didn't get to thanks to Two-Bit.

"Your parents?" He asks hesitantly.

Bingo, he guessed it. I was going to shake my head no but looking at the boy maybe just a year or so older than me, he seemed so friendly and harmless that I couldn't lie. I nod my head slightly, not meeting his eyes. He sighs and looks down at his shoes.

"Where are you hurt?" he asks.

"Uh, back of my head" I tell him. He looks at me expectantly so I turn with my back to him for him to get a better look. I feel his fingers parting my hair to see the wound. He gasps.

"Gee you are bleeding like a stuck pig, you need to go to a hospital" he exclaims. I protest immediately. No way was I going to the hospital, if my father, no when my father found out he'd beat me worse.

"No, no I'll leave it, I'm fine" I say hurriedly.

"It's ok, I hate hospitals too" he says.

"Who likes them?" I reply, amused. We both laugh a bit.

"You could come to the Curtis's, they will patch you up" he offers and it dawns on me that this must be one of Two Bits gang. I really didn't want to invade their house or be a burden on them but it was either that or stay out here in the cold, risking my head getting infected which wouldn't be pleasant and would guarantee me a trip to the hospital.

"Uh, ok" I say, not sure if this was a good idea or not.

"Don't worry they let everyone in their house" he smiles at me and gets up, offering me his hand. I grab it and hoist myself up, gasping when my side erupts in agonizing pain. Johnny looks at me in concern.

"It's ok, just hurts a bit is all" I smile to try and ease his worry.

He hooks his right arm under my armpit and pulls my arm on my non injured side over his shoulder, which feels slightly awkward since I am quite a bit shorter than him so my arm has to strain to stretch over his shoulder. Johnny supports most of my weight as we make our way over to the Curtis' house.

The outside of the Curtis house is in no better condition than mine, chipped paint and a hell of a load of rubbish out front. The Curtis house looks much more homely and friendlier than mine though, I can hear lots of laughter and talking from inside. The TV is turned up so loud; it's a surprise the neighbours don't complain. I look to Johnny. He has a fond smile on his lips. He turns to me.

"Ready to go in?"


End file.
